


Murder In The Glam Scene

by velvetjinx



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 1980s, Alcohol, M/M, Multi, Murder, Original Character Death(s), Recreational Drug Use, Shameless Smut, Threesome - F/M/M, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, drug overdose, glam winter soldier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-03-06 10:17:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13409145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velvetjinx/pseuds/velvetjinx
Summary: The Asset is sent on a mission to kill glam musician and activist Christopher Grant. Obviously, this requires sequins. Lots of sequins.





	Murder In The Glam Scene

**Author's Note:**

> This was written on the inspiration of tinybearswithjetpacks’s amazing [glam Saint Sebastian art ](http://esaael.tumblr.com/post/169420083644/tinybearswithjetpacks-fucking-around-on)on tumblr and esaael’s subsequent fic synopsis. I saw it and HAD to write it, so thanks be to both of them.

_July 12th, 1985_

The Asset looked blankly up at his handler, and the handler stared back until the Asset dropped his gaze. “Do you understand your mission?” The handler asked, and the Asset nodded. 

“Infiltrate a music scene. Target: glam singer and activist Christopher Grant. Get as close as possible to target, make his death seem like a drug overdose. Use whatever methods necessary.”

“Your name while undercover?”

“Sebastian Smith.”

“Best approach?”

“Grant is always looking for new people to join his entourage. I will infiltrate that way.”

The handler nodded, pleased. “I think you’re ready for instructions on how best to blend on this mission.”

The Asset was taken through to a room filled with brightly colored clothing, and a man with a strange hair style sighed. “Well, let’s see what we have to work with. Hmm, he has lovely cheekbones, and that jawline, darling, you could cut me like a knife! Stunning eyelashes too, just the right frame for those baby blues.” The Asset looked at the man, already thinking of how best to kill his target, and the man took a step back, eyes wide. “Yes. Well. Now stay still while we make you up, honey. We’re really gonna make those features pop.”

The Asset stayed still, as instructed, as they did things with his face and hair. When they were finished, the man turned him around to the mirror. “What do we think?” The Asset looked blankly at his reflection, almost not recognizing himself. He had been shaved, and they’d put colorful stuff on his face. Some of it was shimmering in the light. 

“That should work,” his handler said, looking satisfied. 

The next few hours were spent with the man showing him how to apply his makeup and style his own hair. Luckily the Asset learned quickly. 

The man looked at him and sighed. “Well, the blank yet somehow murderous expression doesn’t really go with the sequins, but you sure are hot stuff, honey. I think you’re ready to go out into the big wide world. Hail HYDRA.”

The Asset nodded, and left with his handler, carrying the bag of makeup and hair supplies. 

They drove him to an apartment in downtown New York City, and the handler told him where he would find everything he needed. “The target usually hangs out here,” the handler told him, pointing to the map. The Asset nodded. “The club is called Limelight. You need to get close to his entourage. For Christ’s sake be friendly. Can you do that?” The Asset wasn’t sure, but he nodded anyway. “And you know your backstory?” 

“Yes, sir,” the Asset replied, voice hoarse with underuse. 

“If it all goes south you know the extraction point. But I’m sure you’ll do your duty for the greater good.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Intel says Grant will be at the club tonight. Arrive around ten and infiltrate. Drink if you must, but don’t get drunk. Fake it if you have to. No other substances. Got it?” The Asset nodded again. “Okay. We’ll be monitoring you, soldier, so no wrong moves.”

The handler left, and the Asset looked around. He had a few hours to kill, so he took out his guns and began cleaning them. He didn’t need them for this mission, but having them there comforted him. 

***

Ten p.m. on the dot saw the Asset entering Limelight. There had been a line, but the doorman had taken one look at the Asset and just let him through. 

He spotted the target in a large seating area, surrounded by people. His brain went through half a dozen scenarios of how to infiltrate before deciding on one and heading to the bar for a drink. Drink in hand, he stalked slowly past the group, glancing over and making eye contact with the target. 

Grant’s eyes widened, and leaned over to whisper in the ear of one of his entourage. The Asset winked at him flirtatiously, knowing that Grant was bisexual, then carried on walking to another smaller seating area. 

He had been there barely five minutes when a woman from Grant’s entourage approached him. “Hey!” she said, her tone friendly. 

“Hello,” the Asset replied, taking a sip of his drink. 

“My friend Christopher thinks you’re really cute, and was wondering if you wanted to join us?” she continued, and the Asset pretended to think for a moment before nodding. He followed her over to the target’s table, and stood awkwardly while she introduced everyone. 

“And what’s your name, honey?” Grant asked. 

“Sebastian. Sebastian Smith,” the Asset replied. 

“How about you come sit next to me?” Grant said with a smirk, and the Asset did so. “I’ve not seen you around here before, honey,” he continued. 

The Asset shrugged. “I’ve spent the last few years in Chicago. It’s nice, but New York is the place to be when you’re like me and want to get into the music scene.”

“Oh you do, huh?” Grant said, laughing. “What do you play?”

“I sing and play keyboard.”

“Well, I have a lot of contacts in the business. I’m a musician myself.”

“I know,” the Asset replied, making himself blush. 

The target looked delighted. “You recognized me? That is so cute!”

“I’m a fan,” the Asset said simply, still blushing.

“You really are adorable, Sebastian. Tell you what: I’ll have a word with some of my contacts about starting you in the business if you let me buy you a drink.” The Asset nodded, and Grant sent one of his entourage to fetch more drinks. “So, Sebastian, do you partake in mind altering substances?” Grant gestures towards the table where there was an impressive array of different pills and tabs, as well as some cocaine. 

“No. Just alcohol,” the Asset replied. 

“Saint Sebastian!” Grant said with a laugh, before picking up one of the tabs. “Mind if I do?” The Asset shook his head, and Grant placed the tab on his own tongue. 

The woman—Carly—came back with a tray of drinks and the Asset took one, settling back into his seat and toasting his target. 

An hour later, the Asset felt something on his leg, he looked down, and saw that Grant was rubbing his thigh. 

“What are your pants made of?” Grant murmured, nuzzling the Asset’s neck. “Feel good, man. And god, you smell amazing. Wanna take you back to mine and do things to you. Sex on acid is kind of amazing.”

The Asset considered this. He knew about the mechanics of sex—he was almost certain he’d slept with people on previous missions, although his memory was hazy—and his handlers had told him to do whatever it took, and this would be a good opportunity to get the target alone… Slowly, the Asset nodded. Grant pulled him into a hot, wet, messy kiss, and the Asset was surprised to feel his body respond as Grant’s hand slid up his thigh to palm at his groin. 

Grant pulled away, grabbing hold of one of the other women, Anna, and dragging her in for a kiss before pushing her at the Asset. The Asset realized that he was supposed to kiss her too and did so, and she sat back, smiling. 

“New boy can really kiss,” she said, laughing, and Grant stood on slightly wobbly legs. 

“Come on. We’re going back to mine. Everyone else—we’ll be here again tomorrow.”

The Asset kept his face neutral, but inside he was frowning. If the woman was there he wouldn’t be able to complete his mission that night. 

Some of the entourage were shooting the Asset glares, which he assumed was because he was going home with the target and they were not. 

The three of them bundled themselves into the back of a cab, kissing between them the whole time. When they arrived at Grant’s apartment, he led them both by the hand to a bedroom, and they stripped each other slowly. 

“You have a halo,” Grant said to the Asset, his tone awed, and the Asset has to wonder how strong those acid tabs had been. “You really are Saint Sebastian. Fuck, I want to suck you.”

The Asset nodded, and Grant sank to his knees, taking the Asset’s cock into his mouth. The Asset bit his lip, and Anna began to kiss him. The Asset played with her full breasts for a while before sliding a hand down to rub at her pussy, and she moaned when he touched her clit. 

“Oh, yeah, right there, baby,” she managed breathlessly. The Asset could feel his own pleasure mounting and groaned, but Grant pulled off of his cock before he could come. 

“I get to be in the middle,” Grant said, grinning, and the Asset made himself smile darkly. The expression felt odd on his face. 

The target didn’t seem to notice anything odd, and took two condoms out of his bedside drawer, passing one to the Asset along with a tube of lubricant. They positioned themselves on the bed, and as Grant began to perform oral on Anna, the asset slowly coated his fingers in the lube before pressing one slowly inside. 

Anna was moaning, and the target joined in, pushing his ass back against the Asset’s finger. The Asset slowly worked him open, noting with interest that his own cock was hard and leaking at the prospect of having intercourse with the target. He supposed the target was objectively attractive, with his shock of dark hair, well chiseled features, and toned body. The Asset was relieved that he could respond sexually when he needed to. 

He was stretching the target with three fingers when Anna squealed loudly, and flopped back on the bed. The target looked around at the Asset, grinning wickedly, his green eyes overly bright and dilated and his bright red lipstick smeared. “You ready to fuck me?” he asked the Asset.

“Yeah,” the Asset replied hoarsely. He was. 

He rolled on the condom—his genetic alterations meant that he couldn’t get or carry any normal diseases, but it was clearly expected of him. He watched as Grant did the same, before sinking inside Anna. The Asset waited until Grant was fully seated, then positioned himself and began to push inside. 

The Asset, due to his training and genetics, had exceptional stamina and recovery time. The others did too, although the Asset suspected that this had to do with the drugs they had taken. The three of them fucked in a variety of positions until dawn, before Grant and Anna fell asleep. The Asset could not sleep in such an obviously unsecured room, and definitely couldn’t let his guard down so much in front of the target, and so he pretended to sleep until Grant awoke at two p.m. to empty his bladder. 

When Grant came back from the bathroom, the Asset pretended to wake up. Grant sat next to him, kissing him deeply. “I have to go,” the Asset said quietly.

“Okay. Meet you at the club later? We need to talk about your potential record deal.”

“Okay.” The Asset dresses quickly and escaped, going back to his apartment to check in with his handlers before catching a few hours rest. They were exceptionally pleased with his progress, and told him to keep going. The Asset agreed, and collapsed, fully dressed, onto the bed, falling asleep instantly. 

***

That night at the club, Grant pulled the Asset aside after a few drinks. “I spoke to some people today,” he said, leaning in and shouting over the music. “They want to meet with you tomorrow about maybe recording something, so you’d better bring the goods. Do you write songs or just sing?”

“I write lyrics,” the Asset said cautiously. How hard could it be?

“Awesome. Okay, well, here’s a card with the address and time.” Grant handed the card over and the Asset pocketed it. “I can’t wait to see what you’ve got.”

The offer of sex was not repeated that night—the target went home with two women—and he went back to his own apartment, finding a notebook and pen. He had studied the music of the glam scene, and knew the kinds of things they wrote about. He put pen to paper, and song after song flooded out of him. He wasn’t sure where it was coming from, but it seemed as though there was a well of creativity inside of him. 

When the first rays of sunlight peeled through the curtains, the Asset looked down at the notebook. He had written at least twenty songs, which should be enough, he thought. 

He rested for a few hours, before getting dressed and made up, and heading to the address on the card. He didn’t know what Columbia Records was, but he was determined to make a good impression if he was to stay in with the target and his entourage. 

His contact there, Paul Jeffries, was a genial man; heavy, red faced, and bearded, with sweat patches under his armpits although it was not that warm. He shook the Asset’s hand with his own clammy one and gestured for him to sit. 

“So Christopher tells me you can sing, play keyboard, and write lyrics but not music?” Paul asked jovially. 

“Yes.”

“Well, can you sing me something?”

The Asset blanked for a moment, then from the depths of his brain came a song. 

“ _I went to the crossroad, fell down on my knees_  
_I went to the crossroad, fell down on my knees_  
_Asked the Lord above ‘have mercy, now save poor Bob, if you please’_  
_Ooh, standin' at the crossroad, tried to flag a ride_  
_Ooh-ee, I tried to flag a ride_  
_Didn't nobody seem to know me, babe, everybody pass me by.”_

He looked up at Paul, who was watching him, mouth agape. “Wow. What a voice! What a voice! We can have you in the studio tomorrow. Bring your lyrics. We’ll provide everything else. You pick up tunes quick?” The Asset nodded. “Excellent. We’ll get you in again tomorrow and go from there.”

He shook Paul’s hand again and left to go back to his apartment. He checked in with his handlers—“I’m progressing, just looking for my opening,”—and went to bed, getting some rest before heading to the club again. 

***

That night, Grant was full of praise for the Asset, before going home with one of the other guys. The Asset wondered if their sexual encounter had been a one-off and, if so, how he was going to get that close to the target again. 

He was prompt for his appointment at the studio the next day, and Paul praised him for his “lyrical prowess”. “Damn, Sebastian,” Paul said as he looked through the notebook. “These are amazing.”

“I already have ideas for most of them,” Daniel, the lead musician, said with a grin. “See what you think.”

He played the melodies he’d come up with for around twelve of the songs, and the Asset’s eyes widened. The music stirred something in him, something unexpected, but he tamped it down. 

Paul got him to sign some paperwork, which would allow the record company to release his album. There were other things about him being required to be available to release singles and record music videos, but the Asset ignored those. It wasn’t like he was going to be around long enough to do all that.

As they were setting up to record, after a couple of hours of rehearsal, the target swaggered into the studio. He kissed the Asset on the cheek, smirking. “And how is my protégé doing?” he asked, and Paul laughed. 

“He’s amazing, Christopher. I owe you for bringing him to me.”

“Glad to hear it.”

The recording process was easier than the Asset had anticipated. His voice was still scratchy and rough, but somehow melodic, and when they had finished some hours later, Paul looked ecstatic. 

“That’s gotta be a hit. We’ll release it on vinyl and cassette—reach as much of an audience as possible. You done good, Sebastian.”

The Asset thanked them all, as it seemed like this was required, then walked out of the studio with the target. “I’ll see you later, gorgeous,” Grant said, kissing him deeply before jumping into a cab. The Asset followed suit, heading back to his apartment to get ready for the club that evening. 

When he arrived, however, the entourage was there, but Grant was nowhere to be seen. Anna leaned over to the Asset. “He’s feeling a little under the weather. I think the last batch of cocaine didn’t quite agree with him,” she said with a grimace. 

The Asset was suddenly on alert. If the target was home alone, this was the perfect opportunity. 

He spent a few hours at the club, then walked to the target’s apartment. It was a fair distance, but he couldn’t risk having a cab take him. When he arrived, he rang the buzzer. 

“Hello?”

“Hey,” the Asset said into the intercom. “It’s Sebastian. Just thought I’d come make sure you were okay.”

“Awww, you’re such a sweetheart. Well, come on up!”

The Asset headed up to the target’s apartment, and Grant opened the door, wearing a silk kimono dressing gown, lit cigarette in hand. He pulled the Asset into a deep kiss, and the Asset responded. At length, when they broke apart, Grant smiled at him, and the Asset felt a twinge in his chest. Grant made him feel things—things he hadn’t known he could feel—and he realized he really didn’t want to complete his mission. 

Grant led him through to the bedroom, where there was an array of drugs on the bedside cabinet. “Well, Saint Sebastian, are you going to judge me for my vices?” Grant asked with a grin, and the Asset shook his head. “Oh, you are delectable,” Grant told him breathily, bringing a hand down to massage the Asset’s cock through his tight pants as he kissed him. 

They stripped quickly, and began to stroke each other. Grant came first with a groan, and the Asset soon after, feeling wrung out as he moaned his release. 

“Mmm, nap time,” the target said sleepily, snuggling down against the Asset and pulling the sheets over himself. The Asset looked down at him, and briefly closed his eyes. Now was the perfect time. If he could only bring himself to do it. 

He could always defect, he thought suddenly. Get himself lost in the throng of people in New York City. But he knew that HYDRA had eyes and ears everywhere, and one day they would find him. Or would they? But if he didn’t complete his mission, someone else would, and possibly in a more painful way for the target. 

The Asset looked down at the target as his breathing deepened into sleep. Now was the time. 

***

The following day it was all over the news. Famous glam star Christopher Grant had died of a drug overdose in his apartment. 

His handlers told him to wait a few days before returning to the rendezvous, to make his disappearance seem less suspicious. The Asset did not have to pretend to grieve the target when he was around Grant’s entourage at the funeral; he genuinely felt a sense of loss. 

Paul got in touch as the Asset was getting ready to return to his handlers, and told him that the album would be ready for release in a few days. The Asset thanked him, telling him that he was happy for the album to be released whenever, then hung up and left for the rendezvous. 

***

_Present Day_

Bucky wandered around the kitchen, singing, and saw Steve smile to himself. Bucky knew Steve loved to hear him sing, which was partly why he did it so often. 

“I didn’t know you liked… oh,” Sam said as he came into the kitchen. “Sorry, it sounded like you had some 80s glam rock on.”

“I was singing 80s glam rock, if that makes you feel better,” Bucky said with a laugh. 

“Yeah, but I mean you literally sounded like this artist from the 80s, a guy called Saint Sebastian. He made one album and then disappeared…” Sam trailed off as he spotted Bucky’s guilty look. “No. No way. _You_ were Saint Sebastian? No fucking way, your album was the first album I owned. What the fuck, people still talk about you. It’s a cult classic. Oh my god.” Sam was hyperventilating. 

“You okay, Sam?” Steve asked, eyebrow raised. 

“No! Oh fuck I need to lie down.”

Sam left the kitchen, and Bucky burst out laughing. He really had to get a hold of a copy of that album to play for Steve one day.


End file.
